Think Of You
by Baxley McTedders
Summary: Part of the MS MR 'Secondhand Serenade' Songfic Extravaganza. Track 8 'Think of You'


It's a funny thing: time. Sometimes it seems to crawl by while she's sifting through the mounds of paperwork on her desk. One minute seems like thirty. One hour seems like eight. But, now, in times like this, the half hour she's spent lying in bed trying to tamp down all her feelings has seemed like seconds. It's time to get up. Time to face the day. Time to start getting this particular day behind her.

She's heard the rattling of the coffee maker in the kitchen, alerting her to the fact that she will be called down at anytime. Beth is going to make her coffee just like she likes it. Beth is going to shoot her that warm, inviting smile. There will be something queued up on the laptop, too. It'll be something Beth just knows she will find interesting and engaging as she works her way through her first cup and the healthy mix of fruit that Beth has prepared.

Beth will do all these things because she has no idea. No idea what today is. No idea that all Holly can think about is the date and who it represents. For everybody here, it's just another day on the calendar. All Beth knows about today is that it's exactly six months from their wedding day.

The thought makes Holly wince. If guilt had a name...

It wasn't like she had chosen this. Okay, maybe she had. Some of it anyway. She'd chosen to leave. She chose San Francisco and this job. She chose the apartment with the slightly obscured view of the bay. She'd chosen to get involved with the beautiful girl who had been relentlessly flirting with her since her first day at the new gym. She chose to let the relationship continue. She chose to get comfortable, content, to say yes to the question.

What she didn't choose was to move forward, to make a life, without Gail. That was Gail's decision.

She thought they could make it work.

Gail didn't.

Turns out having only one person willing to try did not a relationship make.

Turns out being a million miles away didn't help the friendship that were once so intent on keeping intact.

Turns out, nothing turned out.

Gail, in her dark, twisted Gail way, had sent her to San Francisco to start anew. She realized it now in a way she didn't then. Back then, the unbearable tension of the two weeks that slowly crawled past was just a torturous cryfest.

Crying and promises that were probably never intended to be kept.

Playing the blame-game and the pondering the what ifs.

Making plans and making love.

Holding tight and letting go.

Gail was staying, there was no room for any other option. Gail was staying and adopting a kid that Holly had never heard of, never seen, never met. She was to become a family woman, though Holly had never heard her express those wants before. Gail was planting roots, while Holly was packing everything she could fit in her 5-piece luggage set.

Even now, with so much time that has passed and after Gail so resolutely drew the line in the sand, she still feels the pull of addiction. There was still a tug on heart when Gail crossed her mind (albeit a little less these days.) Her heart still kicked up a notch when she caught sight of platinum blonde. Whatever spell Gail had cast on her so long ago was still frightenly powerful. But, Gail had made her choice and Holly was left in the cold. More accurately, a mind-numbingly comfortable 65 degrees. No chance of snow. Holly would cut a bitch for some snow right now.

Holly picked up her phone and clicked the weather app. She thumbed past San Francisco and smiles at the forecast for Toronto. After a few more clicks, she's looking at the last text message she'd sent to the familiar number so far away. It was dated exactly a year ago and had no reply. She didn't expect one. She hadn't expected one for any of the last three years' worth of 'Happy Birthday, Gail' messages she had sent.

Holly quickly typed out the same message once again.

_Happy Birthday, Gail._

Just like before.

No addition. No subtraction. Exactly the same. They were destined to always be at a standstill.

Gail was 33 now. She was the same age as Holly when she had left. For some reason, it seemed ironically profound that Holly had missed all the years in between them. For some reason it felt like Holly had stopped the day she boarded the plane and Gail had just kept going. It wasn't the case, of course. Just a fleeting thought in the sea of a million fleeting Gail thoughts.

She knew that Gail had kept going. Holly had kept up, sworn to secrecy that Traci still provides that information, though. Gail had applied for a detective rotation and gotten it. She traded in the uniform for slacks. Dammit, Holly would have loved to see that. Gail had finally moved out of the shitty, little apartment that she shared with Dov and Chris and actually decorated her new less shitty, slightly bigger place. She served as Traci's maid of honor when she married Steve. She made a wonderful, even thoughtful, speech at her mother's retirement party, despite puking for the three days leading up to it. And, she had been devastated when Sophie had been adopted by a long-lost cousin in Winnipeg. That particular bit of news was hard to swallow for so many reasons.

Holly had tried to contact her when she had heard, but Gail wouldn't answer. Of course not. Gail was exceedingly good at shutting her out. She'd done so before. She'd do it forever.

And that's how Holly knew this was for the best. Gail Peck was wrong for her in so many ways. In all the ways that Beth was exactly right for her.

There was only that one little thing.

Not so much love, really.

Addiction.

The need.

The desperation.

The temptation.

The not knowing where the next fix would come from. If ever. And hoping that it never would, because _what if_...

The morning had flown by. The minutes had felt like seconds as Holly drank in her last bit of coffee. There was only one strawberry left on the plate. She was scrolling down to read just the last couple sentences of what had been a pretty captivating article that Beth had found. She was just about ready to go for a shower when her phone dinged with a notification.

Honestly, she hadn't thought much of it. Her eyes caught Beth move toward it. She had tapped in the passcode and lifted it slightly off the table.

"Who is Gail?"

"Huh?" Holly asked dumbly, surprised to hear that word, that name, out loud.

"Gail?"

Holly swallowed, "Gail texted?"

"Yeah," Beth said, a kind smile still fixed on her face. She didn't know. She was so unsuspecting. "Said 'thanks for reminding me, geek.'"

Holly laughed, her hand automatically lifting to her mouth, tears threatening her eyes. "She said that?"

Beth pushed the phone across the countertop and headed out of the room. "Going to get dressed, k, hun."

"Yeah," Holly said, grateful for privacy.

She looked at the screen and her heart leapt when she saw the dots signaling a new message coming.

She waited.

It felt like hours.

_'How have you been?'_

It was simple.

It was something.

And the vicious cycle starts again.


End file.
